


A Small Problem

by Karma_bug



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Animal Attack, Fluff, Ford is small, Ford is very stubborn, Gen, Nightmares, Stan is sarcastic, Stangst, Suicidal Thoughts, blood in later chapters, canon-divergance, descriptions of violence, elf dipper, elf ford, everything is 100 percent platonic, i have to make them suffer, no ships, sorry - Freeform, take a shot everytime someone calls Mabel sweetie, ya nasties
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-09 14:33:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14717918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karma_bug/pseuds/Karma_bug
Summary: After the events of D D & More D, Dipper and Stanford, along with the rest of the Pines, are shocked to realize they have not returned to normal. Shenanigans ensue.





	1. Salty Elf and Anxiety Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the short chapter! Next one will be longer, but I just wanted to get exposition out of the way!

To say that Stanley Pines had made a mistake was an understatement. This was, to say the least, one giant fuck up. The look of pride on Stanley’s face after ‘Probabilitor’ and his goons had vanished was quickly replaced with concern as he realized,

Stanford and Dipper weren’t returning to normal.  
Stan and Mabel were left in the forest clearing, with their twins no more than 5 inches tall standing next to them. Mabel tilted her head slightly to the right, before being the first to break the silence. “Uh, Grunkle Stan? Why aren’t they going back to normal?” Her voice packed a small concern as she examined the two, looking over their strange clothing and pointy ears.

“Y-yeah, Great uncle Ford, shouldn’t we be our normal h-heights again?” Dipper spoke up, his voice quiet from his small stature. He looked up to his uncle in confusion, and fear. Ford returned his gaze with equal confusion, looking up to Stanley and then back to Dipper.

“I-I don’t know, I- Stanley, what did you do!?”

“Me? I ain't the one who did this to ‘ya! I was the one who beat that creep, you’re welcome, by the way,”

“If you had listened to me, this wouldn’t have happened in the first placed!” Stanford’s fists were balled by his side as he shouted at his brother. The yelling put a bit of a strain on his throat, as normal yelling would seem like quiet talking to the larger twins.

“Look, Ford, as much as i’d love to yell at ‘ya all day, it’s gettin’ dark, and I’m sure not gonna just stand out in the forest all night. We can figure all this mess out once we’re back at the shack,”

Stan scratched the back of his neck as he talked, obvious uncertainty drawn across his face at the situation. He looked down at the small twins with sympathy, but mainly, confusion. Stanford sighed slightly, trying to release the tension and anger building up in him. He looked down to his feet, then back up at Stanley, considering the words.

“Fine, you’re right. Fighting isn’t going to get us anywhere, especially standing in the woods. We should come up with a plan when we’re back at my house,” He emphasized the last words, correcting what his twin had said. Stan just rolled his eyes in response.

At Ford's approval, Mabel knelt down and scooped up Dipper in her hands. He blushed a bit but didn’t object. He knew there wasn’t much fighting it, especially with Mabel. It wasn’t like he could walk back, anyway. Mabel smiled at her brother, giggling a bit at his small stature. “You’re so tiny, Dip-dop!” She beamed at Dipper, who only gave her an annoyed look in response.

“Don’t make this worse than it already is, Mabel,”

Stanley did the same as Mabel, reaching out to pick up Ford, but Ford shook his head and pushed Stanley away. “I don’t need you to pick me up, Stanley. I’m perfectly capable of walking on my own,” Of course, Ford knew he’d quickly grow tired trying to keep up with them, but he wanted to preserve any remaining dignity he had. He was already dressed in ridiculous clothing, 5 inches tall, and had weird elf ears, he didn’t need to be carried like a doll.

Stanley stood back up and crossed his arms, looking down at Ford like an irritated parent. “Oh really, Ford? You’re gonna walk all the way back to the shack?” He grimaced, knowing well that Ford wouldn’t be able to walk that far. He was fit, but everyone had their limits.

“..Yes,”

“Alright,”

Stan shrugged and started nudging Mabel back in the direction they had come from, making their way back to the shack. Ford quickly shuffled to keep up the pace, having to break into a sprint to keep up with their long strides. Surely he could make it back, right? He’d traveled much farther distances in many multiverses running from danger. Surely this wouldn’t be any different.

Walking was fine for the first fifteen minutes, Ford was able to keep up the pace with the taller twins. But that was when he started getting tired. His breathing became ragged and his legs started to burn, but he said nothing. He would keep going, he didn’t need to be carried.

By twenty minutes, they were about halfway back to the Shack. Stan could hear his brother behind him, wheezing and struggling to keep up with them. He stopped and sighed, turning around to face Stanford, who was an exhausted, panting mess. He skidded to a stop, trying to level his breathing as his legs threatened to give out from under him.

“Wh-why did you st-stop, Stanley?” Ford wheezed as he struggled to regain his breath. Stan huffed as he knelt and reached out to pick his brother up. Ford pushed his hands away again, but his exhaustion got the better of him. Reluctantly, he put his head down and allowed Stanley to pick him up. His breath was still ragged and his face was red, both from running and embarrassment.

0000000

Both twins stayed quiet during the trip home. Ford pouted, trying to keep what little dignity he had, and Stan stayed quiet, letting Ford reserve his pride. The walk home was uneventful, but by the end of it, Ford was ready to pass out. The sun had since gone down, and fatigue had settled throughout all of them.

The four stepped through the doorway, Stan clearing his throat as he held his brother in one hand. “As much as we want to fix this mess, it’s late, we’re all tired, and it looks like Ford is about to pass out,” Ford’s eyes were drooping slightly, exhaustion setting in. He quickly shifted awake, blushing and frowning at his brother. Stan continued.

“Anyway, we’ll have to work out a plan tomorrow, but right now, you two need your rest. Up to bed with the both of ‘ya,” Stan pointed his thumb at the stairs behind him. Mabel nodded and yawned, stretching her free hand slightly.

“You can sleep in my dolls bed, Dipper!” She said as she took a few steps upstairs. Dipper frowned and blushed, but said nothing. It was better than nothing, and Mabel did care, even if it was embarrassing. The pair disappeared upstairs, retreating into the attic for the night.

“Alright, Nerd, you need to sleep too,” Ford didn’t object as Stan started off towards Ford’s bedroom, stopping in the bathroom to grab a cotton ball and a soft rag. He pushed open the creaky door which was slowly giving way to time, and entered the dark room, flipping the light switch as he walked towards a desk.

Ford stifled a yawn as Stan put him down on the desk next to the items he had grabbed, and looked up at his twin. “Need anything?” Stan asked as he slowly backed up towards the door.

Ford shook his head and Stan nodded, flipping the light switch off as he shut the door.

Ford grabbed the rag, more than ready for sleep. As much as he hated being this size, there wasn’t much he could do when he was exhausted. And Stan surely wouldn’t let him work this late anyway. He laid down as sleep washed its way over his body, wrapping him in warmth as his eyes slowly closed, lulling him to rest as his small snores started to fill the room.


	2. Begone Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford has a nightmare, we get some Dipper and Mabel/ Mabel and Stan fluff, and Ford comes up with a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man I felt really dirty writing Stan this sad. I might have to make a quick fluffy one-shot to make myself feel better. This chapter wasn't meant to be this long I swear, and I wasn't supposed to make it angsty until at least chapter 3, but I just can't control my sinful hands.

_Stanford was lying in some sort of forest; an open clearing, with a few trees surrounding the area. The wind blew gently against his greying hair, sending a small chill down his spine. In his hands, a small notebook with a few scribbled notes and sketches inside the pages. His black coat surrounded his arms and upper body, providing warmth in the slightly cold atmosphere._

_Everything was blissful. There was no noise to distract him, no people, or possibly hostile creatures that he could see. He was safe. He looked back to the book. A black binding held the pages, covered with a similarly shaded top and bottom. A six-fingered grip was held on a small blue pen, the ink in the book the same color. The pen glided across the page, smooth and quick, creating a line. Then another. And another. The strokes continued, sketching a nearby tree. The tree was of alien origin to Ford, with strange markings running down the trunk that seem to have come from an intelligent species. Ford silently hoped if he did come across any such life forms, they would be docile._

_Another gust of wind blew past him, rustling a few leaves, purple in hue. As he continued sketching, he realized the rustling had not stopped. The crinkling of leaves was audible against the relative silence of the forest. Silently but quickly, Ford rose to his feet, abandoning the notebook to the ground, coated in soft, brown grass. Ford listened intently, quickly scanning the area for the source of the noise. His eyes shifted from tree to tree, bush to bush, looking for any sign of life. His hand hovered over where his gun holster was located on his hip, but did not draw. Not yet. His breathing was quiet, nearly stilled as he listened._

_Nothing came into view, but the rustling continued, growing louder by the second. Ford felt inclined to run, but rationed with himself it would not be a good idea. He had no idea what might be lurking, what it was capable of. It was possible the creature could outrun him, and he didn’t want to take the chance._

_The noise stopped._

_Ford’s heart nearly went with it._

_Still, nothing was visible. Ford counted the seconds. Each one felt like hours._

_One._ _Nothing._

_Two. Nothing._

_Three._

_A dark, looming figure came into view. Its eyes were glowing in an unnatural shade of blue. All four of them, to be exact. Long, pointed ears were folded backwards as the creatures teeth were bared. The fur was mangy, growing in uneven patches across the body, seven feet in length. The long tail added an extra 2 feet to its stature. Its paws were larger than Ford’s head, bearing claws that could rip a man in half. Its snout was long, holding a set of teeth Ford did not want to be on bad terms with._

_At the sight, Ford’s breathing hitched. He instantly went to grab his gun, but his blood ran cold as realization washed over him; His gun was gone. His eyes instantly widened in fear. He patted his sides, looking for anything, but it was all gone. There was nothing between that monster and him. Before he could think, his legs took off, putting a small distance between him and the beast. The headstart didn’t last long, as it lept after him with a growl, claws digging into the soft earth for power._

_Ford was fast, anyone could see that. Years of running from bounty hunters, animals, and authority kept him in shape. Yet the creature was faster. It was quickly gaining the distance between Ford and itself. Before Ford could turn a corner in an attempt to lose the beast, it lept on him, causing him to stumble onto his back. He screamed, but it was muffled by the animals massive paw pressing down on his torso. He could feel his heart practically ripping its way out of his chest, but before he could move, the creature bit down, and the world went black._

00000000

Ford sprang upwards in fear, scrambling to his feet so quickly he had nearly fallen off the desk. He was barely able to catch himself before tumbling off the edge, carefully backing away from the area. His breathing was sharp and forced, gasping for air. _A nightmare_ , he reasoned with himself. _Just another nightmare_. A memory from his portal days, warped by the minds twisting abilities. He clutched his chest and forced himself to breathe, slightly feeling the phantom pains of a scar long since healed.

He glanced around his surroundings, looking for a sense of stability, just to know for certain, _yes, he was home. He was safe_. Sure enough, as his eyes moved around him, the objects in the room reminded him he was back in his guest room, in _his_  house. He wiped a few droplets of sweat from his forehead, sighing.

The room still lingering in darkness was an indicator that it was quite early. As he glanced to the clock near the couch, he could faintly make out the time. _5;48, great_. It would be at least another hour or two before the rest of the Pines awoke, and there wasn’t much he could do at this size. He lay back down, hoping if he could drift back to sleep, his dreams wouldn’t be plagued by more twisted memories.

000000000

The soft morning light flooded onto Stanley’s face, causing it to contort in discomfort. He groaned slightly, turning on his side to shield his eyes. Slowly and wearily, his eyes pried open, glancing at the time on a nearby clock. He groaned again before lazily shifting himself out of bed. It was eight a.m. The kids (and Ford) would no doubt be expecting breakfast, and that was his duty. Stretching his back, he lifted himself off the worn mattress, placed his dentures and hearing aid in, and made his way downstairs. He didn’t bother putting on proper pants.

The floorboards creaked beneath him as he walked to the kitchen. There was little noise in the house, meaning Stan was the first one up. That would give him time to cook for them. Grabbing the ingredients from the fridge, he started making a simple breakfast; scrambled eggs and ‘Stancakes’. He cooked enough for him and Mabel, and then a small amount for the shorter twins.

Preparing the plates, he set his and Mabel’s food aside, and began to work on Dipper and Ford’s. He sliced the pancakes thin as he could, and put a small amount of eggs on a plate. Setting the plates on the table, he called to Dipper and Mabel, and went to grab Ford.

As he heard the small pattering of Mabel’s shoes on the creaky wooden stairs, he knocked on Ford’s door. When there was no response, he gently pushed open the door, scanning the room. “Ford?” He caught sight of his brother, still sleeping under the small washcloth. He sighed, and walked over to his spot on the desk. Stan lightly nudged at Ford’s side, causing him to stir awake. He jumped a bit at the action, but calmed once he caught sight of his brothers face. He gave a small yawn and a stretch while Stan talked. “Mornin’ Ford. I made breakfast, if ‘ya want any,” Ford did not say anything, but nodded, still groggy from sleep. Stan scooped him into his palm and carried him to the kitchen, to which Ford responded with a small noise of surprise and a blush.

Mabel and Dipper were already at the table, waiting patiently for their grunkles. Mabel was kicking her feet back and forth underneath the table. Dipper sat nervously, obviously shaken from being his current size. Mabel smiled when Stan entered the room. “Good morning, Grunkles!” She barked chiperly, while Dipper just gave a small ‘morning’.

Stan gave a small smile to his great niece and nephew as he set Ford onto the table. Ford stumbled a bit but was able to keep his balance. Stanley grabbed the plates off of the counter and set them onto the table, setting the smaller plate near Dipper and Ford while placing the normal ones for him and Mabel. Mabel proceed to drown her pancakes in syrup as Stan talked.

“So,” he started, getting the attention of the family. “Do we have any idea of what’s goin’ on? What’s the plan?” He took a bite of his eggs as he finished his sentence.

“Well, I’ll need time to research what kind of spell this is. I should have some books on enchantment in my study, and I did research curses in my journal, so-” Ford was cut off by Mabel slamming her hands onto the table, still chewing a forkful of pancakes. Dipper was knocked off of his feet by the unbalance, dropping his egg and letting out a small yelp of surprise. Ford helped him to his feet after regaining his own balance.

“Dipper! Those weird crystals! We could use those!” Her eyes had a glint of realization as she looked down on the pair. Dipper gasped and looked to Ford, his ears twitching in excitement. “Yeah, the size altering crystals in the woods! We have one! Do you think we could use it?”

Ford’s eyes widened at the statement. “Yes, that would work! It won’t help with these,” He gestured at his long, pointed ears. “but, it will make creating a reversal spell much easier,” Stan affectionately rubbed Mabel’s head, smiling at her. “That’s my girl! Leave it to the alpha twins to come up with the ideas, eh?” He grinned at Ford, who only looked mildly annoyed. Ford could chew Stan out when he was back to his normal size. He rolled his eyes at Stanley’s condescending expression.

Mabel beamed at the compliment, and took off towards the stairs. “Be right back!” She disappeared behind the corner, seemingly to retrieve the flashlight.

A few seconds of awkward silence had passed before they heard Mabel’s excited footsteps running back down the stairs. She smiled as she re-entered the kitchen, holding the red flashlight close to her chest. Stan grabbed it from her after another loving noogie, and got to work.

Mabel picked up the two and set them on the floor. Dipper grinned excitedly, ready to be more than 3 inches tall again. “Alright nerds, here goes nothin’.” Stan clicked on the flashlight, pointing it at the pair.

Nothing happened.

“What the-?” He tried again, and still, nothing. He tried a third time, but the beam seemed to have no effect on the smaller twins. Ford shouted an exasperated noise, slamming six fingers onto the nearby table leg. “Damnit! This is all your fault, Stanley!” Dipper flinched at the sudden shout, causing Ford’s expression to soften a bit, before turning back to Stanley in rage.

“Language, Ford!” He pointed at the children, giving Ford a stern look. Ford only seemed to become increasingly heated at his brothers disregard for his words.

“You never listen, Stanley! You didn’t listen when I told you not to touch the bag, you didn’t listen about opening the damn portal, and you won’t even listen now! Look where your mistakes have gotten you, Stan! This is all your fault and you won’t even do anything to fix it!” His face was hot and red from shouting. He couldn’t hold back anymore, not after everything Stanley had done to him.

Stan froze at Ford’s words, staring at him as if he’d been struck. Of course, Stanley Pines knew he was a screw up. It seemed like everything he’d done in his life was nothing but wrong. He’d ruined Ford’s invention, one of many fuck-ups in his life. After being kicked out on the street, everything was a bad decision; choices made in the heat of the moment, only trying to save his own sorry ass. He’d gotten mixed up in drug cartels, and wasn’t that just a fun experience? Of course, he couldn’t even let that be; he’d just had to rat them out, hadn’t he? People put away for life on his own hand, all because he was only looking out for himself.

And what about the lives he’d seen taken, the people killed on his account? People caught in the wrong place at the wrong time; saving his life at the cost of their own. He would never forget the night he had to take a life. He didn’t want to, he really tried not to. But you can only defend yourself without violence for so long. After suffering a stab wound to the gut from another lowlife looking for a quick buck, Stanley turned the knife on him and _killed him. Stanley Pines, a murderer_. He’ll never forget the look of sheer _fear and pain_  in the man's eyes as the life drained out of him. The way they glazed over before slowly shutting as he bled out from the chest. Stan had never felt sicker.

Even the one good thing he thought he would ever do, bring his brother back, after he was the one to push him, was just another screw up. Like him, wasn’t it? Anytime he tried to do anything right, Stanley Pines had caused it all to go wrong. That night almost sent him over the edge. It’s funny, isn’t it? The one thing he thought he could do right, the one thing he thought would finally make them happy, it made him think back to his darkest thoughts. The thoughts he hadn’t seen in so long, when he was at his lowest, lying in a cold alleyway with nothing but a stained red jacket and a gun to his head. The thoughts that told him this was the only way, the only good thing he could do in this world. And yet, he’d been too scared for his own sake to do it. What a selfish waste of space. Dad was right.

He nearly did it that night. He’d finally had his brother back, yet he felt more alone than he ever had before. But he couldn’t do it, not yet. Not while the kids were here. They’d surely blame themselves. He couldn’t put them through that, he couldn’t ruin _yet another_  life.

He shook his head slightly, coming out of his daze, and looked at Ford intently, trying desperately to keep the tears from falling. “F-Fine, Ford! If I’m such a screw up, then you won’t n-need me!” Cringing at the wavering in his voice, he balled his fists and turned on his heels, walking back to the room he called his own. His face was burning up as he left, a mix of anger and pure _heartbreak_  in his expression as he walked away.

00000000

Ford and the kids stood frozen for a moment, taken aback by Stanley’s outburst. Ford looked down, feeling a bit bad he’d pushed his brother over the edge. He stopped himself as he remembered Stanley deserved it. He shouldn’t feel remorse when it was Stanley’s fault in the first place.

He sighed before turning to Mabel. “Mabel, sweetie, could you take me to my room? The sooner I find the reversal spell, the better,” Mabel looked down sadly, before bending to pick them up. She gently cupped her hand and let the pair climb into it. “Okay, Grunkle Ford…”

She carefully walked the two towards Ford’s room, placing Ford down on his desk at his request. “Could you grab me those books, Sweetie?” He pointed towards a few unmarked books with various colored covers, along with a red book with a gold six-fingered hand and a ‘2’ on the cover. Mabel stepped on her toes and grabbed the books. She slipped when getting down, knocking the pile onto herself and nearly hitting Dipper with a blue book. Mabel yelped as she hit the ground, cutting her arm slightly and bruising her shoulder. A book fell on her head as she regained her balance.

“Mabel, are you okay?” Ford asked, rushing over to the side of the desk to look at her. She rubbed her head and nodded, laughing a bit. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” She got back onto her feet and gathered the dropped books, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“Do you need any more help, Grunkle Ford?” She rubbed her arm as she talked, soothing the soreness.

“No, ah, thank you, Mabel,” He smiled slightly, turning to look at the books. Mabel picked Dipper back up and headed towards the door, frowning a bit as she left.

Dipper looked up at Mabel as they were walking. He noticed her left arm had a small cut, and looked up with worry. “Hey Mabel, are you okay? You’ve got a bit of blood,” He pointed to the injured arm. “I’m okay, Dip-dop! I just need a bandaid on it. Besides, shouldn’t I be the one to take care of my,” She grinned. “little brother?” Dipper frowned, but laughed a bit as Mabel poked him in the side, tickling him. He pushed her hand away slightly, laughing. “M-Mabel, st-stop!” He yelled out as he laughed uncontrollably from the contact. Mabel pulled her hand away as they reached the attic, smiling at her brother.

After splashing some water and putting a bandaid on her cut, she turned back to Dipper, frowning slightly. “Dipper, do you think we should talk to Grunkle Stan? He seemed pretty sad after what Grunkle Ford said..” She looked down at her black shoes as she talked.

Dipper frowned in thought. “Maybe you should talk to him. I’m not much for comfort, plus, who doesn’t love a Mabel hug?” He smiled at her, trying to lighten her mood. It seemed to work as she grinned, looking back up to him.

“Thanks, Dip!” She stood up and left the attic, heading for her Great Uncle's room.

00000000

Stanley cupped his face in his hands as he sat on the creaky mattress, blinds and door closed to keep all light out. His eyes were red and scratchy from the flow of emotions he’d let out in the privacy of his room. He sighed out in sheer exhaustion. What was he doing with his life anyway?

Was there anything more to his life than bringing his brother back? Thirty years had been poured into this old shack, and every part of it was for Ford. For so long he had to put on a smile for the world and act like everything was fine. But he was so tired. Stanley Pines was so tired of everything. He didn’t want to keep up the facade, all he wanted was his brother back. Now that even his own brother hated him, was there even any point in being here-

Stan’s thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on his door. A small voice filled the dark room from the other side. “Grunkle Stan, are you in here?” Mabel spoke softly and quietly, trying to ease any possible tension.

“Yeah, I’m here. But I’m fine, sweetie. You don’t have to come i-” Stan was cut off by Mabel gently opening the door, peering into the small flood of light. Her heart sank as she saw the redness in his eyes and the dried tear trails on his cheeks.

‘Shit,’ He cursed under his breath, having one of the kids see him like this. It was already childish enough, crying like this, now Mabel had to witness it? He wanted to curl up in a ball of shame. What would they think of him now?

Mabel’s heart burned to see her Uncle in such a state. He’d always been the tough guy, steering away from the thought of sentiment, and now he was here, crying in the dark. Without thinking, her legs brought her closer to the bed, and she took his aging hand in hers. He looked into her eyes, the shame reflecting in himself clear.

Without words, she wrapped her small arms around his chest and hugged him tightly. He gasped in surprise, and hesitantly, yet gratefully engulfed her in a tight hug. His breathing hitched slightly, but he kept the tears from rolling down. He blinked them away as he slowly, soothingly ran his fingers through her soft brown hair. The action was calming to him, a small smile spread itself across his face. Mabel rubbed his back, comforting him further.

It felt like hours they sat there in each others embrace, Mabel being the first to slowly pull away. She was relieved that there were no longer tears in his eyes, replaced with gratitude and comfort. “Thanks, ya’ knucklehead,” He gently rubbed his fist on the top of her hair, resulting in a small giggle from the girl. She handed Stan his glasses, which had been discarded onto the side of the bed from when he had entered. He smiled and put them on, clearing the fog from his field of vision.

Mabel grabbed his arm and began to lead him towards the door, smiling. “C’mon, you know what would make you feel better? Watching the new episode of ‘Ducktective’!” She barked excitedly, causing Stan to laugh.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” He grinned as he let Mabel lead him downstairs. Just as Stan was about to sit down in his favorite chair, the pair heard a small sound coming from the direction of Ford’s room. Mabel ran off towards the attic, for reasons unknown to Stan, as he made his way down the hallway, sighing. He heard the noise again, although now it was much clearer. “Stanley!” It was Ford. Ford was shouting, was something wrong? Was he hurt? He had to check-

Stan opened the door and scanned the room, sighing in relief when he found Ford was fine, standing near several books, a piece of paper with shakey notes, and a pen much too large for Ford to use easily.

“Yeah, Sixer? Ya’ need anything?” “I may have found the reversal spell! There’s just a few ingredients I need for the incantation, and…” He trailed off in his own thoughts, mumbling to himself, presumably about his plans.

“Well that’s great. Just tell me whatcha need and we can fix this mess,” Stan broke Ford’s thoughts as he spoke up, recatching the attention of the smaller twin.

“Ah, yes, um, we’ll need some items that aren’t exactly the easiest to find,” Ford stumbled over the words, looking back to his notes. Stan groaned. Ford rolled his eyes.

“You see, the spell itself is easy enough to perform, a simple arrangements of ingredients, and a short incantation, but spells like these usually require odd items. Thankfully, only one will be hard to find; the Roserus Illusiories, a strange breed of rose,” He scratched the back of his neck as he spoke. “Alright, what makes this flower so hard to find?” Stan leaned against a nearby wall as he listened. “Well, it only grows in some of the darkest parts of the forest, and it’s not exactly close to here,” he glanced into a book, mapping out the woods of Gravity Falls. A shaky circle was drawn around a patch of trees in the map, indicating where the rose was found.

“Once we find it, the other ingredients will be fairly easy to aquire. Formaldehyde, which I thankfully have a large supply of in the basement. You wouldn’t believe how many spells and curses use it,” He mumbled on for a moment, then continued. “And the root of poison oak, which are fairly common in this part of the woods,” Stanley sighed as Ford crossed his arms in completion.

“Alright, got it. We need some weird plants and that formaldehyde business in the basement. Anything else I should know about?” Ford shook his head and Stan nodded.

“It’s still relatively early in the day, if we move now, we could have the rose before sundown,” Ford continued. Stan nodded.

“Alright, I’ll throw some clothes on and we’ll head out,” Stan shifted from his lean and Ford nodded. Stanley turned on his heels and headed back to his room. He secretly hoped that spell would knock some sense into Ford as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You asked for funny magical shenanigans, I gave you angst. And you will like it.


	3. Dang it old men now's not the time!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford and Stan fight again, which leads to big problems for small Stanford.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops.

Stanford had shakily drawn out a sort-of map of where the flower could be found relative to the shack. The lines were uneven and strange, but clear enough. He sighed, waiting for Stanley, who seemed to be taking his time preparing for the walk. _If we don’t leave soon, it’ll be dark before we get back._

 After Mabel had knit sweaters for both Ford and Dipper, She used the flashlight to shrink them down. Dipper’s was blue, with the words “Little Brother” Stitched in white on the front. As much as he despised the writing, he appreciated the sweater, and was glad to have proper clothing.

 Ford’s was a soft red with a yellow star on the front, one of Mabel’s favorite designs. Ford, however, had refused to wear the sweater. After seeing Mabel’s disappointment, he reassured her, telling her that he only wasn’t wearing it because he didn’t want to ruin it on the trip. He hoped Mabel would forget about it afterwards. _Maybe I should wear it…_

 After what seemed like an eternity, Stanley emerged from his room, wearing a _suit of all things,_ and carrying a small grey backpack. He sighed, stepping closer to the table Ford was standing on, waiting.

 “Took you long enough..” He muttered. Stan chose to ignore the remark.

 “Alright, let’s get moving, I guess.” Stanley said as he put sandwiches in the backpack, not knowing how long they would be walking. Ford nodded, stepping into Stanley’s hand once it was near.

 God, he hated to be carried. But he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. It would take weeks of hiking to reach the field at his current height, not to mention the animals and anomalies that lurk in the forest. He wouldn’t last a day out there on his own.

 Before he could walk out the door, Mabel wrapped her arms around Stan in a tight hug, to which he patted her head affectionately. “Promise me you’ll both be careful?” She looked up at him, eyes unsure. Stan smiled reassuringly.

 “Of course, pumpkin. Take care of Dipper while we’re gone.” He added, to which Mabel grinned and disappeared behind a corner. And with that, they were off.

 

00000000000000

 

It seemed like forever that Stan was walking, guided by the occasional input from Ford. This deep in the forest, thick overbrush blocked out most of the sunlight, only letting a few slivers in between the leaves. It was pleasantly cool outside, accompanied by the shade of the woods. Stan sighed loudly, prompting an eye roll from Ford.

 Stanford’s eye seemed to catch something about the forest, as he told Stan to put him down. Sure enough, after examining the soil, it seemed they were in the right area. He was about to tell Stan, but was interrupted by another complaint.

 “Jeez, Poindexter, could you take any longer?” He crossed his arms like a pouting child, which extracted all the more rage from Stanford.

 “Again, Stanley!? Is complaining all you’re going to do?! I’m the one who’s stuck like this, yet you don’t see me whining!” Stanford threw yet another tantrum, to which Stanley seemed to lose his temper to as well.

 “Really, Ford? You haven’t been complaining? You’ve been nothing but a pissy brat this whole time! You’ve got no room to talk, especially at your size!” Stanley balled his fists at his sides in rage.

 “Maybe I wouldn’t be this size if it weren’t for someone not listening to a word I say!”

 “I CAN STEP ON YOU RIGHT NOW, FORD!” Ford shrank under the scream, which Stanley seemed to instantly regret. Of course, he could never hurt Ford. But his rage said otherwise.

 After recovering from the sudden outburst, Ford made one final remark. “Fine, Stanley. If you’re just going to act like this the whole time, then I don’t need your help!” And with those words, he retreated into nearby grass, heading in the direction of the rose patch.

 Stanley was red at the face. He was angry, sure, but he was also worried. Worried that Ford would get himself killed out on his own. But in his anger, rational thought was muted by red. “Fine! Go find that dumb rose on your own! See if I care!” Stan took off in the opposite direction, fists clenching his sleeves as his arms were crossed.

 

00000000000

 

 _Dammit, why does Stanley have to act like such a child?_ Ford monologued with himself as he walked, the dark forest providing a cool relief to the red hot rage built in his gut. _You would think after how he acted, he’d be more than happy to fix his mistakes. Yet here he is, still pulling the same crap as 40 years ago!_

 As Ford was stimming, his eyes caught the sight of a light blue petal strewn on the ground. Recognition went through his mind, the Roserus Irreguliores. He walked in the direction of the petals, but was stopped by a strange rustling in a nearby tree. He paused, and looked up to see a particularly large raccoon standing above him.

 “Get out of here!” He shooed at the creature, though perhaps that wasn’t the best choice, as it started to loom over him. A large paw came down near him, and that was when he knew he’d made a mistake.

 

000000000000

 

 _Dammit Ford, why do you have to be such a baby?_ Stan angrily muttered to himself, walking in the direction of the shack. Though, he found himself wanting to turn around. His head wanted to go home, to be away from Ford and all the magical-sciencey crap. But his heart was telling him to turn around, that this was a poor decision.

 He decided to ignore his heart. Listening to it has caused him nothing but pain for the past 40 years.

 Yet, as he kept walking, a pang of regret filled his gut, and his chest was practically screaming at him. _Get Stanford! He’s too small, he won’t last out there!_ Can’t he ever decide on one thing? Still, he pressed onward towards the shack.

  _God damn it Ford, Damn it damn it damn it. You’re gonna pay me back later for this._ Stan found himself wheeling around, facing the direction he had just come from. He kept his pace at no more that a swift walk, even though the caring part of him was telling him he needed to run, he needed to get to Ford fast.

 When he reached the rose patch, he’d wished he would have listened to himself sooner.

 Stanford was pinned against a tree by a wild raccoon, claws scratching into his chest and legs. Ford was struggling desperately, but he was pinned tight. The animal opened its mouth, but before it could do anything, Stan punched it square in the face. The action caused it to scurry back into the woods, leaving Stanford with Stanley.

 “Oh my god, Ford! Are you okay?” He gently lifted Ford up, rousing a noise of pain from the smaller twin. If Stan felt guilty before, this was the nail in the coffin. He’d done so many dumb things, now his brother had gotten _attacked_  because of him. His expression was nothing but remorseful and fearful.

 “Ford, please, say something,” He gently poked Ford’s side. “Anything.” Ford stuttered out a few words, exhausted from blood loss and pain. “St-stan, get the f-flower…” His voice was shaky and weak, as his eyelids grew heavy. Stan couldn’t completely see his injuries, but they had to be pretty severe.

 Stan turned his head and saw the pale blue rose, all but ripping one from the ground and shoving it in his bag. He then returned his gaze back to Ford. His brother lay on his back in Stanley’s hand. He looked so fragile and pained, like he was a kid again. Stan quickly rationalized that he couldn’t care for Ford out here, and the best thing was to get him back to the shack as soon as possible. Gently curling his palm around Ford, Stan took off running to the shack.

 Ford was struggling to keep his eyes open. Everything hurt, everything was dark and heavy. It felt as if he was trying to think through cotton balls, his mind felt so fuzzy and thick, like his thoughts were made of slime. He could faintly hear his brother begging him to stay awake, though it was quickly silenced by the darkness falling onto him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for another short chapter! I really just want to get to that good making up, resolving your issues and hug it out kind of scenario. Next chapter is gonna be really fluffy, I promise.


	4. You're killin' me Ford

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan patches Ford up, Bill haunts Ford's dream, and god d a m n so many puns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I do this to myself  
> I skipped revision/editing we die like mne  
> Huge thanks to Gin & Shattered Dreams for helping me come up with these terrible damn puns!

Stanley’s frantic footsteps pounding against the ground were the only source of noise save for his ragged breathing. Cupped in his hands was Stanford, bleeding and unconscious. Stanley only had one intention in mind; getting to the shack. He could sort out the details once they were inside. 

Several times in his panicked run had he nearly tripped, snagging his foot on a loose root or catching his sleeve on a low branch. He’d wound up slamming face first into a branch, bruising his nose and nearly sending him to his feet. He shook his head and kept going, still tenderly holding Ford between his hands.

His labored breathing and burning legs were rewarded when he caught sight of the shack in the distance. Taking one last burst of effort, he closed the distance between them and the house, stopping himself at the front door. Switching Ford between hands, he felt around in his pocket, retrieving his keys. After fumbling for a few seconds, he separated the right key from the rest and jammed it into the lock, turning it and swinging the door open.

As he stepped into the living room, he was greeted by the sound of small, pattering footsteps making their way down the stairs.  _ Kids _ . He couldn’t let them see Ford like this, bleeding and knocked out. He regained his breath and looked up at Mabel, who was carrying Dipper in her right hand, stopping near the bottom of the stairs.

“Mabel, sweetie, go back upstairs. Ford’s had… an accident.” He nudged her back towards the top of the stairs, prompting a concerned and confused look from his niece.

“What do you mean, ‘accident’? I can help if you ne-” Mabel was cut off by Stan hardening his gaze.

“Upstairs.  _ Now.” _ He ordered, to which Mabel retreated to the attic silently, Dipper growing concern in his small expression, yet staying quiet.

Stan sighed. He’d hated having to be strict with his niblings, but didn’t have much of a choice. They shouldn’t have to see their Great Uncle like this. Returning to the task at hand, Stan looked down at Ford, who seemed unnaturally pale, and headed towards the nearest bathroom.

Once in, he shuts the door behind him, getting to work. Gently setting Ford onto the counter, he started to raid the cabinet for supplies. He grabs tweezers, gauze, scissors, and a few q-tips, setting down the items near Ford.

Stan returns Ford to his palm, quickly taking note of his injuries. The main source of bleeding seemed to be coming from his chest, with a smaller pool collecting on his left leg. Sighing, he grabbed the tweezers and removed the blood stained robes Ford was wearing, leaving him in his undergarments. Stan ran the tap and placed a q-tip under it, wetting it slightly.

After dampening the q-tip, he delicately takes it to Ford’s wounds, starting with his torso. He gently runs it across the length of the cut, prompting a whimper and a bit of stirring from his unconscious brother. Stan frowned at the pain he was causing his twin.

Once he was satisfied that his chest wound was properly cleaned, Stan wet the other side of the q-tip and began to clean his leg. Ford reacted by rolling onto his side, then onto his back, whimpering from the pain. Stan hated this. Ford didn’t know where he was or what was going on, just that he was in pain. As mad as he was at Ford, he couldn’t stand to see Ford hurt in anyway.

Once the wounds were both thoroughly cleaned, Stan took the gauze in one hand and scissors in the other, cutting it into small strips to wrap around his brother’s injuries. After getting a sufficient amount, Stan carefully started wrapping it around Ford’s chest, careful not to wrap it too tightly in fear of cutting off Ford’s air supply. He then does the same to Ford’s leg, tenderly wrapping it around the cut.

After he was certain all of Ford’s wounds were tended to, he carefully carried Ford to his room, opening the creaking door. Stan gently laid Ford down on the desk he had slept on the previous night, reaching for the cloth and cotton ball. As he did so, his eyes caught sight of a small red sweater with a yellow star on the front, obviously shrunk down for Ford. Seeing as his brother was shaking, Stan carefully put the sweater onto Ford, before laying his head onto the cotton ball. He grabbed the cloth and draped it over his brothers small body, smiling slightly at the way Ford pulled it closer in his sleep.

Stan took a seat in the chair near the desk, carefully watching the rise and fall of his brothers chest. He would stay with Ford, making sure his condition stayed stable. A frown crept its way back onto his face, regretting leaving Ford alone in the first place. Ford snored peacefully, his hair shifting in sync with his chest.

 

00000000000

 

A warm breeze fluttered passed Stanford, ruffling his lab coat and the wheat surrounding him, the plants reaching up to his knees. A quick survey of his surroundings revealed he was standing in a field of sorts, filled with nothing but wheat and important objects from his past. Perhaps if he had more time, thought would have been put into the relics, views into his past life, reflections of his mistakes. But all logical thought was cast aside as the wheat around him flattened into an all-too familiar shape.

As if on cue, a chill was sent down Ford’s spine as a high-pitched, ear piercing laugh rang throughout the dreamscape. Nearly frozen in place, Ford responded with anger- not unlike him the past few days.

“Show yourself, Bill!” His voice was only so loud against the raging wind swirling around him, but in response, the triangular figure came into view, his irritatingly yellow body glowing intensely, contrasting the dark atmosphere.

“WELL WELL WELL! STANFORD PINES! LOOKS LIKE YOU’RE IN A…” He paused, creating copies of himself that circled around Ford, before continuing. “SMALL SITUATION!” At the punctuation of the last words, the clones and original all burst out in laughter, Ford scowling in reply.

“What do you want from me, Bill.” Rather than a question, it was a statement. Ford knew full well what Bill wanted, and he was not about to give it to him.

Ignoring Ford’s statement, Bill placed an arm on Ford’s shoulder as the copies stared on. “GEE STANFORD, I HAVEN’T SEEN YOU SINCE YOU BURST INTO MY DIMENSION UNINVITED! HOW’S IT GOING, GENIUS? WE NEARLY GOT THROUGH THE PORTAL THIS TIME! IT WON’T BE LONG BEFORE WE’RE SUCCESSFUL, FORDSY!” The mocking tone in Bill’s voice added gas to the fire burning in Ford, nearly covering the fear bubbling in his chest.

“You’re crazy if you think you’ll find a way into this dimension, Bill!” Ford stated as he drew away from Bill, who now crossed his arms, mocking a pouting child.

“GEEZ SIXER, YOU HAVE SUCH A SHORT TEMPER!” Bill punctuated the word short, causing Ford to further grimace. Even when threatening, Bill was maddeningly annoying to no end.

“The portal is shut down Bill, and once I’m back to normal, that portal is going to meet the fate it should have suffered long ago. I’ll dismantle it, trapping you in your nightmare dimension forever.” Ford practically spat the last words, a smirk threatening to form until Bill spoke again.

“OH SIXER, DON’T THINK I DIDN’T NOTICE THE RIFT!” Ford silently cursed himself, his fleeting hope Bill didn’t know about it defeated. “NOT TO BE RUDE, BUT IN YOUR CURRENT STATE, IT’S NOT LIKE YOU CAN EXACTLY KEEP IT SAFE. I JUST NEED TO FIND A NEW PAWN, AND YOUR DIMENSION IS FUCKED!”

Ford couldn’t help the way his entire body gave an entire involuntary jerk at the words. The anger started to dissipate, quickly being washed with a burning terror in his gut. With the last rage in him, he shouted.

“Get out of here, demon! You have no dominion in our world! I’ll keep you and your minions out!” Bill just replied with hysterical laughter, the copies disappearing into a pixelated mass before dissipating.

“WHOA FORD, DON’T GET SHORT WITH ME!” Ford had to bite back a groan from irritation. “MAYBE I DON’T HAVE POWER RIGHT NOW, BUT THINGS CHANGE, STANFORD PINES! THINGS  **CHANGE!** ”

As Bill uttered the words, his bright yellow shifted to a deep black, setting the wheat ablaze. His words deepened, corrupting the annoying, childish screeching into a dark, hellish chant. A dark cackling escaped him as the dreamscape turned into a swirling mass of dark colors, painful to the eye to view. As he laughed, the colors began to fade, and a darkness engulfed Ford before he shot up with a gasp.

 

0000000000

 

Stan was zoned out, watching Ford as he slept. While his eyes were fixed on Ford, his thoughts were elsewhere, considering how he would apologize to Ford, if he could even make up for putting his brother in harm's way. It made Stan sick to see Ford like this. 

As Stan’s thoughts drifted, he noticed Ford was beginning to stir in his sleep. Stan assumed Ford was waking up, but became worried when his brother was still asleep, tossing and turning in a restless slumber.  _ A nightmare _ , he reasoned to himself.  _ He’s having it because of me. Because I let him get hurt. _

As he watched, Stan could hear Ford mumbling, soft ‘no’s and groggy, incoherent slurs passing his parched lips. A pang of guilt crept its way back into Stan’s gut. Stan chose to try and rouse his brother from his sleep, not wanting Ford to suffer through whatever horrible thing he was facing. His finger lightly poked at Ford’s side, gaining no response other than the already present shifting and kicking. He grunted, trying again, poking a bit harder. He recoiled when Ford let out a soft whimper of pain, but still did not wake.

Stan grimaced, lifting his hand to try again, when Ford seemed to grow increasingly active, until finally springing up in a panic, gasping for air as if he’d been underwater. Stan sighed and relaxed slightly, shifting closer to the smaller twin, while letting him collect his bearings.

Stan reached a hand out to Ford, to which Ford jumped, instantly regretting the action as pain shot from his chest, spreading to the rest of his torso. He gasped in pain and settled back into place, eyes tracing the arm back to Stan, and calmed slightly once he caught sight of his brothers face.

“S’okay Ford, just me.” Stan cooed, speaking softly as if Ford were an injured wild animal, which wasn’t far from the truth.  _ Then again, Ford has a right to be scared. I threatened to  _ step on him _ for christ’s sake. _

Ford tried to focus his vision, but his eyes were weary, drooping slightly as he fixed his gaze on Stan. “Wh’re m’ I?” The words rolled lazily off his tongue, scratchy from a dry throat. Stan hastily offered Ford some bottled water from a cap, which Ford gratefully accepted, greedily gulping down the soothing liquid. He sighed as he finished he water, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of the sweater that  _ was definitely not there earlier. _

He gazed down at the sweater, rubbing six fingers across the familiar star that Mabel had sewn on.  _ How did it get on him? _ He spoke again, more clearly, but still pained and fatigued.

“Stan, wha’ happ’ned?” As he spoke, his chest burned with a sore pain, prompting him to look under the sweater. He gasped at the bloody gauze, then looked up to Stan in confusion.

Stan rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke. “Well, uh, you sorta got, attacked, I guess? A raccoon or something gotcha’- I honestly didn’t pay much attention to it. So, yeah, uh, I took you back and patched ya’ up after you fainted, but on the bright side…” Stan paused as he reached into the bag he had brought in, pulling out the faint blue rose. “We got that weird flower for your spell or somethin’, so it wasn’t a total loss?” He spoke with frazzled nerves, uncertainty at how Ford would react.

To Stan’s surprise, Ford just shook his head and smiled slightly, wincing as the action put strain on his chest. “Tha’s good, we c’n do the… the revers’l spell soon.” His words were thick and drawn out, dribbling from his lips like molasses. Worry bubbled up in Stan as he took note of the slurred speech. How much blood had Ford lost? He would need to make up for it. Stan offered Ford another capful of water, and he accepted, sipping much more leisurely than the last time. He sighed and swallowed hard, shifting under the cloths warm hold.

“You doin’ okay, Ford? You seem pretty tired. Maybe you should try to go back to sleep.” Stan started. gesturing slightly in no apparent purpose other than to fidget as he talked. Ford groggily nodded, pausing for a moment to gather his thoughts.

“‘M fine, Stan. Jus’ need ta’... sleep.” He reached a yawn midway through his sentence, shifting himself into a lying position. Stan worriedly ran a hand through his hair, pulling the cloth up towards Ford’s chest.

“I’ll leave ya’ to rest, Sixer.” Ford jerked at the nickname, causing Stanley to pause in his tracks. “Y’okay?” Ford shook his head, trying to recover but obviously shaken.

“Uh, it’s. it’s f’ne, Stan. Don’t w’rry about it.” He stuttered over the words, calming himself from the sudden panic.  _ He’s not Bill, he’s your brother. That was just your childhood nickname. Don’t make this into a big deal. _ He sighed, regaining his straight posture.

“Stan, I need you t’ do someth’n” He still spoke tiredly, though with less effort. Stan leaned in closer in response.

“The last ingred’nt we need is pois’n oak root, and we c’n make the count’r spell.” Stan nodded, realizing what Ford had wanted before he had to say it.

“Got it. I’ll get us some of that root and then you can do your magic stuff. That right?” Ford nodded, relaxing again as he shifted back into lying down. Stan grunted and straightened his back, preparing to go out for a second time in the day.

“Ya’ need anything, Ford?” Ford didn’t respond, and Stan sighed. Ford needed to rest, Stan could see that. So he carefully shut the door and groaned. Ford was really killing him lately. After shouting to the kids to watch the shack, he exited again. Luckily, he knew just where poison oak grew in the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I made you physically cringe with my god awful puns.


End file.
